I raised an eyebrow as I flipped a waffle and asked if she could believe it was a Saturday morning. She reminded me about her veterinary classes and the Treating Stray Animals Project.
I nodded as I remembered how determined she had been ever since George gave her that wild animal book for her tenth birthday. I suggested that she check the laundry basket in the bathroom in case I forgot to hang it up.
She dashed off and returned a minute later with the sweater in hand. She thanked me and called me the best before pecking my cheek and grabbing a waffle straight from the pan.
Melinda’s sharp voice made me jump. She never called me Mom and instead used my name, Adelaide, as if we were coworkers or strangers.
She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips and her slim figure looking immaculate. She managed a self service laundromat and always dressed as if she were heading into an executive board meeting.
Her blonde hair was pulled into a severe bun that sharpened her already sharp features. She asked if I had moved her things in the bathroom again.
I replied that I just wiped down the shelves and that all her jars were exactly where she left them. She squinted at me and said she could not find her hand cream.
It was the one Phillip gave her for their anniversary. I suggested cautiously that it might be in the bedroom while I continued to flip waffles.
She snapped that she always kept it in the bathroom drawer with all her other things that I was always moving around. Jace snorted softly behind me while his eyes remained glued to his tablet.
Skyler rolled her eyes. She told her mother that she saw the cream on the nightstand before she stuffed the last bite of waffle into her mouth and left.
Melinda pursed her lips and offered no thanks to her daughter or to me. She simply turned and left, trailing expensive perfume and unspoken grievances behind her.
I placed the finished waffles on a large plate beside the maple syrup. Phillip appeared just as I finished washing the pan.
At forty two, with a receding hairline and a slight paunch, he still looked like the little boy I used to carry in my arms. He was my only son, my pride, and my pain.
